Mindspace

New Years at Al Anon

Spent New Year's Eve at Al Anon. Was all set to go to a karaoke, kid-friendly party, then husband showed up 3 hours after he was suppose to and tried to convince me that he crossed county lines from Costco Monterey to Costco Santa Cruz in search of milk. After repeating what he told me back to him 3 times like a true therapist he finally confessed he went wine tasting.
I don't know what hurts me more -- that he so predictably lies about his whereabouts when he drinks or that he actually expects me to believe him. i call him up these days and instead of asking " Where are you " i ask " where did you stop ? " and he'll repeat his expected whereabouts -- work, an errand, dropping off stuff at the neighbors like " Don't you remember hon, we're homosapians, we live on earth " like i am the one that has amnesia not him.
A part of me is humiliated the whole time that he thinks i am so stupid, so gullible, that i don't get this sinking feeling each time he tells me he's going somewhere -- " Where else is he going? " The few times i am wrong, i am relieved and repentant. i attempt to convince myself that i dreamt this whole thing up to get attention.
The majority of the times i am right -- i fantasize of the day he can just straight up be honest with me. That way i can just deal with the grief instead of this incredulous rage. That way, one part of me can be proud of him.
But "i drove to Santa Cruz for milk."This one has got to top " Sake isn't wine, it's rice". One good days, i know that i am not dreaming. i don't have to take his blood alcohol level to know this is certifiable addict behavior of the purest kind. Even my sponsor who i suspect wonders if i just made this whole alcoholic thing up in my head -- said " Wow, i didn't realize he's gotten worse ". After 2 years in Alanon, i know better than to need others to believe me but  for a minute it was lovely to be finally validated. We're dealing with addict character of the purest kind here.
So i took a deep breath and went through the steps of what i always tell my clients -- what can you control. What do you need. How can you take care of yourself.
i had been reading Dry all day for some reason, and maybe God was preparing me because after finishing it i knew exactly what to do. I decided i wasn't going to the party, i was going to a meeting instead. i took deep breaths. Tried to check in. Did a litmus test for vindictive revengefulness which i am beginning to realize is my hugest character defect.
No, i wasn't rageful now, if i had to put on a smiley face and go to this party i would be at the end of the night.
So i waited until he came home,  told him i felt betrayed, told him that i didn't feel i could trust him. And left.
i haven't gone to Al-anon for 2 weeks now. i was so proud of myself that i was holding up. But yesterday, i realized, i needed to be there.
15 people in a room, reporting sorrowfully how Christmas is such an anxiety producing season, how their qualifier acted out, how their family was crazy. i needed to be there. In fact, if i had been there, i would have probably not been as reactive to my sister and mother this vacation.
But it was comforting to see how others were handling it. That i was in good company. That they were laughing. That it felt like family.
It was wonderful to talk to another guy with 2 kids who's wife is driving while drinking and confess my desire to control him by refusing to be the designated driver. There was both a sorrow and a peace about him, that i told him i really aspire to have.
But i left in such a good place. i came home humming. And i am guarding this serenity with my life. It's not bad, it's not good it just is. And for slivers of moments, i experience the incident shrink to being a speck on the wall. The last night of 2011. It's not about me. It's about his stuff, his issue. And the fact that i wasn't raging, i wasn't self-destructively cursing. That the last words my daughter said to me was " Mommy is smiling, that's not good".
It's progress. And it was a beautiful end to the growth of 2011.

Blogging at San Damiano

i am blogging at San Damiano.
i almost feel hedonistic sitting there with my 3    incarnations of technology -- my phone, my kindle and my laptop. It's rainy outside and i've had my fill of Edwina Gately. Too many poems read by the poet herself. Yet enveloped by the energy of my favorite part of the retreat center -- the bookstore -- i feel finally centered and content.
i need the written word to ground me. Center me. The room is too comfy, the retreat too wordy. It's too wet to be outside.
Yet here, i am so thankful to finally be able to write. It's been so hard to even ground myself enough to blog.
But i am reading old entries in 2008 and it's so poignant and lovely to see God come full circle.
• 3 years ago my husband and i were at a party that made me officially worried about his drinking
• 3 years ago, i attended Al-anon for the first time.
• 3 years ago, i weighed 130 lbs which is what i finally weigh AFTER 3 years managed to get back to.
• 3 years ago, i ran into Kahlil Gibran's poem about Love and i swear it is just about perfect for a couple i am working with today.
The beautiful thing about blogging for the last 8 years is that i have history documented for all but mostly me to see. i see the rhythms of His goodness, the wisdom of His hand, the parts of life that has not changed, and yet the poignancy of what has -- my own eyes, new perspective, new wisdom on my part.

The Power of Prayer

Somedays i feel like i should just read my blog. Because the things God tells me are the same things resonating through the years.
i've been changing blog editors and thumbing through old entries and ran into this one almost 6 years ago.
It seemed so poignant next to this past month since God has been re-emphasizing in my heart the importance of prayer; since i've taken up his challenge to wake up every morning to pray for my marriage.
I don't know what's changed in my husband's heart but this I see: - a new peace, confidence and commitment in our marriage

- a new power in my counseling practice as i stand on what i do know is true -- His character, His power, His will.

- a place to put my control-freak anxiety in a way that is productive

- the children's new awareness of special time and a new love for His word.

- new intimacy and grounding with Gods

I sat in Al-Anon this morning and meditated on Step Two...

We came to believe that a Power Greater than ourselves can restore us to sanity.

Ultimately, the torture and terror isn't outside of us, but in our heads. i keep thinking that true peace lies in a destination. My husband's epiphany, his spiritual awakening, his recovery. That's not the restoration that God promises. He promises sanity.

And these days, i am even asking for serenity.

Perfect Day

The kids had Columbus Day off and it's always a catch 22 for me. On one hand, i am delighted to have them home, on the other hand, it's my only day off for the week ( since our weekends are so harried ) so i literally cancel 3 appointments every time the kids are home: my walk, my Al-anon meeting and my Dailey Method exercise.
But this Monday, Enoch took the day off and so in an attempt to be part of the family, i decided to join them at the pumpkin patch despite all my instincts that it be a very bad idea.
It was suppose to rain, and Lemos Farm in my opinion is just a little too young for them, and it's a long way to drive to Half Moon Bay.
But we went. And everything i feared came true. It rained. We were under-dressed. We had on our brand new Costo-version Uggs which meant it got all muddy. We had no umbrellas, no raincoats and it drizzled for most of the time.
The good news is i drove out to the nearest thrift store and got us all beautiful rain jackets for $13. It gave me something purposeful to do instead of feeling self-piteous in the rain.
When i got back everyone had done what they needed to do and were ready for lunch. By the time i got the car, parked and waited it was another 45 minutes in the rain. Then another hour to lunch.
By the time it was 12.30 and everyone was ravenous. My blood sugar was dropping and the world was beginning to look pretty bleak. i sent Enoch out to wait in line because he was insistently happy and the kids and i waited in the car.
Aidan and i found apples and just feeling the sugar hit my veins in that first bite made all the world of difference.
Then the kid's classmates came and everything was better.
That night as we drove back, we decided to go get haircuts and drop off Nally's retainer.
Walking down Castro that night, i realized that it has been so long since all off us as a family were casually walking down downtown Mountain View.
It was actually nice.
That night, i found out Mary Oliver was speaking at Stanford and i got to run out on a night my husband usually works. It turned out to be a perfect day.

Coming Home

We've been away from Abundant Life for a while -- a church we've been going to for over a decade. We left after the Pastor Paul incident but mostly because Baby girl found a new best friend who went to Menlo Park Presypatarian. We often joke that i grew up Assembly of God and Enoch grew up Presybytarian and between the two of us, we agreed on Abundant Life. But Pastor Paul Shepard was such a loss and the church has been floundering for a year with different teaching pastors. So we thought we would go visit the eloquent and articulate John Ortberg.
But today as we came back for the 2nd week in a row at an ungodly 830 in the morning for the kids -- i realized this is home. i know it walking into the door, fuming at my husband hearing the first whiffs of worship and going "i don't want to go in there". God is present there.
Ever since Woodlawn our college church, i learnt that there are 2 kinds of churches. Ones that i can "get away with it", ie. walk in and out and nobody will mess with me, and those that i can't spend 10 mins there without running smack into the Holy Spirit and dealing with my crap.
Whoever the speaker, the Holy Spirit was there at ALCF and all i wanted was some pretty music and a well put together sermon.
But today as i worshipped and listened to the sermon, i realize that this is the church with my heritage -- a sanctuary that is spread out enough so i can raise my hands in worship. People who are willing the cry out in joy or affirmation about the power of God. Prayer at the end of every worship and an altar of surrender in the middle of the sermon. A solid children's program that is relationship based and that models worship and authenticity.
i realized, at the end of the day this is still my home. Not because of Pastor Paul, but because he modeled all the values that i loved -- authenticity, spirit-filledness, powerful worship, an investment in the next generation, outreach and recovery.
At the end of the day, i still feel more identified with the African American Body that i do white people. MPCC is as white as ALCF is black. i just know walking around that i can hide, behind pretty Nordstrum clothes and high flying jobs, i can hide.
At ALCF, i can't. And at the end of the day -- that's when you know you're with family.

Relapse

In Al-anon, they make us own our version of the disease. While the alcoholic is wrapped around their " cunning and baffling disease ". Our disease is one of control, codependency, manipulation and obsession about our "crazy person" ie. addict.
If controlling my husband's drinking is my disease, this weekend has been one of relapses. It started last Saturday with the party we went to, that ended up at home with more post-party drinks, which preceded another one on Monday conveniently on the excuse of a sleepover in San Francisco necessitated by a conference the following morning. This weekend, we have more drinking at a pumpkin patch reception.
The succession triggered me. i am back reeling in the horror of the possibility of being married to someone with a drinking problem; at the grief of being lied to and hidden from; at the loneliness of living double lives.
As a AA friend politely corrected me, only he can decide if he is alcoholic, i get to say " I have a problem with his drinking". Again i have the problem.
But as God gently reminds me i have a problem with so many more things besides his drinking. Drinking is the one space i can get the most people allied with me, sympathetic towards me, inside this crazy space where i am alone. Choosing to fuss about his drinking is a cop out. When he's sober, there will be yet another and another thing that is egregious, unfair and hurtful. What will i do then ?

At the end of the day:

• i am powerless over my obsession and need to control my husband -- sober or drinking.
• My life is unmanageable because of my rage and obsession.
• It is not my right to take my husband's inventory even if i am trained to do so for a living for my clients.
• i can only turn will and life over to God
• i choose serenity and peace over rage and bitterness.
• i choose to get better not bitter.
• i choose not to react not because he deserves it, but because i deserve to like myself at the end of it.
• My husband has his own higher power, his own journey and his own bottom.
• i have no right to rob him of his bottom, design or create it.
• i choose recovery because my children deserve a centered, non-raging mother.
• i can detach with love.

It all Comes Together

i've been loving Al-Anon. Still basking in the afterglow of a beautiful weekend up at San Damiano. For the first time, i was able to leave from work, drive up there, be on time for dinner, not crazed, not reeling from crying children chasing cars. You would think after a decade of driving up there i would know the routine by now.
But it was exactly what i needed. It's the second time i am with Father Tom Weston up on my Holy Hill. He has got to be my favorite Al Anon speaker. His voice is in my ear all day long in the car.
But this time, i am so aware of how much i've changed since i attended one of his retreats 4 years ago. The first time, i felt so out of place, so awkward i could barely stay the retreat or sign up to talk to him. This past time, i finally spent 15 minutes with him, and it was as awkward as i imagined.This time i thought it was growth on my part that i was able to sit side by side, tell him about my amends letter to my in-laws, and recite a Rumi poem together.
i am twitching less. i am getting more comfortable in my own skin. i am reaping the fruits of recovery.
But this week, after a rough run-in with enoch, i sat there meditating on my 12 and 12. i sat there reading my first step and realized i had missed it all along.
" We admit we are powerless over the influence of alcohol ... "
and i crossed out the word " alcohol " and put in my husband's name. Anything about him, his responses to me, his spiritual life, his personal journey, his emotional life. Anything and everything -- you name it. i am powerless over it.I don't know why i didn't get it before. It was the Al-anon's bottom. The horrible realization of our own disease. We cannot control anything or anyone -- People, Places and Things.
"Our lives are unmanageable".
As i thumbed through journals upon journals of my analysis of my marriage and how my own issues and his own issues influenced our dynamic. i realized it was all a sophisticated and sneaky way of still attempting to control. If i changed this about me, he would do this. If i understood this concept about him, it would do this. At the end of the day, my own inventory was an attempt to control and change him and to change our marriage. i realized, even if was paid to do it for everyone of my clients. It's not my place to take my husband's inventory. It was what my supervisor called " just plain rude".
When it finally sank it, i felt palpable relief. That i could "turn my will and my life over to God". i could turn his too. In Al-anon, we say " They have their own higher power".
This week as i sat in my Monday meeting listening to this woman share about how she's been trying to get her husband to sleep earlier, i am tickled pink at how obviously crazy it was. How i've spent the last 2 years doing the same thing. She did it out of guilt, i did it enraged.
Like Hedy S said, the key to fulfillment is accepting what is. That entails, letting go of control, of my visions of how this moment should go, grieving, embracing, celebrating and standing in awe of what is.It all comes together.

Chore Day

We finally found the nanny a family. Enoch got a lead and on a whim i thought it only fair she had all the choices in the world. It fit, she took it. In a day we are nannyless  
I am so amazed at how much lighter i feel. Just a month ago, i wasn't sure if this was what i wanted. i grieved, i mourned the loss of her voice at night, her watching the kids, the years she put in when i went to school, how symbolic she was to my motherhood experience. i went through all my blog entries, my journals when she first came.
It's amazing what due process can do because this week i am so ready for a new chapter in my life. This week, we had her come in the way i wanted -- 2x a week no sleepover. Basically, i want a housekeeper that isn't home when i get there.I had an empty house when i got home, kids to myself, i didn't miss her meals, the kids ate what they liked not what was on the table -- it was perfect. They've been hearing the refrain " We now no longer have the nanny for a couple of weeks now ", we're getting our morning routine down to include them making their own breakfast and cleaning up after themselves. We ordered hot lunch at school and i can't imagine not doing it before.
This Saturday, i implemented Chore Day. i got to do what i have been fantasizing about since enoch and i got married. For 16 years, i felt the most partnering experience was the both of us working together on a Saturday morning - singing Jimmy Cricket's " Whistle while You work ". 16 years, we never resolved the chore war. For some reason, that was such a symbolic gesture of abandonment and devaluation.
I couldn't describe the joy and healing it felt watching the kids do it this weekend; to see the chores on the fridge, them each choose to take one. Nally chose laundry because she didn't like getting wet. Aidan still loves the dishes and is so meticulous about dirt.
Just looking at the list makes me happy. I realize that somehow, the delegation of chores means that i am not alone. This household is run by many of us.
Somehow I've inherited my mother's post traumatic disorder around mess. When the kids leave an article on the ground my first thought is " Who is going to pick that up ? ". Enoch's refusal to do chores all these years have left me feeling alone in this marriage; that somehow i am left with all the responsibility of the menial task of running this household. Whether 800 sq feet or now 2700 sq feet, he refused to submit to a consistent schedule of chores.
After battling for years, i ended up abdicating it all with a housekeeper.
But taking it back little by little this weekend, i realized i've missed them. i like working. i like being in charge of my own house. i love throwing things away and cleaning things. It's therapeutic for me. As long as i am not alone doing it.
So i am welcoming a new chapter in my life. Ironically, the kids are motivating daddy to finally make his bed and do some chores around the house.

God is restoring the years the locust has eaten. i am so grateful.

The End of an Era

Woke up last night traumatized about letting the nanny go.Everything in me knows it's time.

• Our expenses are higher with school and summer camps.
• The kids are on a Chinese food strike -- they eat only pizza, pasta and hot dogs.
• Enoch's hours are getting better and he is enjoying hanging out with the kids more.
• We don't go out as much at night
• We found cleaning services that are cheaper.
• We found more reliable babysitting
• With my new job, I am feeling territorial about the house in the mornings and the 30 mins after i come home. i need the quiet. i need the space and she is always present. Always wanting to talk.

So if she doesn't cook, or watch the kids, or babysit -- she basically keeps house - -which is totally outsourcable.
She's more than housekeeping. i will never forget the first day she arrived. When she gave me permission to leave every afternoon to work on my book. When she watched the kids every Tuesday and Thursdays for 4.5 years when i went to school. When she painted the kids' rooms with me, or repacked the rooms over and over.
During those early years when Aidan was born, she was practically an anti-depressant. While my husband was at the height of his business trips and sitting on boards -- i consoled myself that i had a partner. i wasn't mothering alone.
i wasn't the maid, the housekeeper, the laundry machine. Her duties made it so that i could find a nuance of mothering i could own and master and be proud of.
She was there the years i homeschooled Natalie. Keeping away paints, and scraps and creations. Cleaning things up so that the creative juice could keep going. She marveled at them all. She cheered us on. She praised how atypical we were as a family.
Yet these days, i feel the energy change. As i come home more tired, more withdrawn, more introverted after a day of work --- her energy jars. Her excitement early in the morning when i am trying to relish the house's quiet -- annoys me.
i feel encroached, i feel impinged, i feel intruded on.
Today the kids and i sat in the guest room " Linda Ah Ee's room " and read for the first time.
i realized, if she wasn't there, it could be the library i've always dreamed of.
We all sat and lounged, lost in our respective tasks and books.
So i'll have to tell her when we get back on vacation.
It's the perfect time i know. Her daughter just moved out, her husband's got a job back. i know i can leave her financially now. It's probably been 3 years belated and only a matter of time.
i can hear her voice in the rooms, her pride in our family, the joy and the ownership she has in our house.
It's been a precious 8 years. Grateful, thankful. Just time to go.

The last time this happened.

The Nanny

I'm trying to decide if we should let go of the nanny.
It's a hard decision for us.
This woman was literally my anti-depressant when i first had Aidan. She made my life palpably better. She validated all my decisions -- to go back to school, to write my book, to go back to work. She was there during all those lonely years enoch traveled and worked and sat on boards. Because she was there -- i wasn't alone.
These days, i feel the family outgrowing here. She doesn't fit. i am angry at her presence. Because she is there, my kids are not learning how to pick up, or clear their place or make their beds. She is more intrusive in giving me her her opinion for everything -- what i should remodel, what vacuum cleaner to buy.
Our expenses are higher now and i know that the last 3 years at least -- she has been more like a psychological clutch than anything. Our needs are different, we need a driver more than a nanny. These days, the kids refuse to eat any of her food -- they only eat pasta, pizza, hot dogs and fried fish. I haven't eaten it for the last 2 years since i went on a salad diet for dinner.
So it's a hard one and i am praying for sign, praying for timing, praying that God be so concretely part of it.
Make it beautiful God.